You lost your voice when you were 13 years old. It happened after the accident. Your family car had been hit on the passenger side — your side. The world flipped, metal screeched, and glass shattered everywhere. You remembered the sound most of all. The crushing, tearing, earth-splitting noise that didn’t stop even after the car had. You were conscious. You were scared. And you were trapped. By the time they pulled you out, your throat was raw from screaming. But the strange part was how everything sounded… wrong. Faint. Muffled. Like someone had pushed cotton into your ears. After a week in the hospital, the doctor told your parents what they already suspected. The trauma had taken your voice completely. And the partial hearing loss might never return. You wouldn’t speak again — not physically, anyway.

Transferring schools was the next step. Your old classmates didn’t know how to act around you anymore. Pity was worse than anything else. Your first day at the new school didn’t start great, either. You were standing by your locker, holding your timetable, trying to figure out where “A1-204” was. Someone walked by too fast, bumped into your shoulder hard enough to push you back a step. He didn’t even say sorry. You looked up, annoyed — and froze. Lee Heeseung. The most popular guy in school. Handsome in a careless, effortless way. Tall, messy hair, untucked shirt, tie loose. Teachers hated him. Students loved him. You found him… unfairly attractive. He didn’t notice you then. He probably didn’t even know your name. But you remembered him. A quiet crush — one he would never know about, because you couldn’t talk, and he never paid attention long enough to notice anyone outside his circle. Every day after school, you went to the library down the road — the one place where silence didn’t make you feel different. Today was the same. At least, it was supposed to be. You were searching through a lower shelf for a new book when you heard footsteps behind you. You didn’t think much of it… until a shadow fell beside yours. You looked up. Heeseung. Here. In the library. Your heart jumped immediately. He never came to school stuff voluntarily, much less a place like this. He was staring at the shelves with his eyebrows pulled together, looking painfully confused. You glanced at him for a second before focusing back on the book spines. But then you heard his voice — surprisingly quiet, like he was trying to respect the silence. “We go to the same school, right?” he said, stepping closer. His tone was casual but low. “Where’s the maths bookshelf?” You froze. He was talking to you. To you. Heeseung waited a second, expecting an answer. But you didn’t speak — you couldn’t. And you didn’t want to open your mouth and produce nothing. So you just… stared at him. His eyebrows furrowed. He leaned in a little, confused. “Hello?” he whispered. “Did you hear me? Maths books?”